


2 years later...

by karamel_dreams



Series: What if I told you a story... [11]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karamel_dreams/pseuds/karamel_dreams
Summary: "...He didn't turn to look back, didn't attempt to get another glimpse of her face. He was too desperate to get out, needing to put his thoughts back in order before he could do anything stupid like go talk to her.He hadn't seen her in almost two years; since she'd left him without as much as a goodbye. So to see her now, on an already rough night, out of the blue, was starting to mess with him..."
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Series: What if I told you a story... [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689337
Comments: 19
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. Hope you're all healthy and sane and taking care of yourselves through these weird times.

It wasn't a secret that Mon-El hated the big, loud, pretentious events his mother would organize just to flatter herself. They were always the same; the same kind of boring, the same kind of pointless, the same kind of a waste. But he couldn't miss one, no matter how much he hated them. Because as bad as those events could be, his mother was worse, and he'd long ago run out of patience when it came to dealing with a pissed off Rhea Gand.

So, he sat at the bar, away from the crowd but still there to be seen, to be gossiped about, to be noticed. He couldn't replace his late father, couldn't cover up the obvious absence, but he still tried to play his part, if only to satisfy his mother's wishes and fill up the space in the company his father had left void.

He nursed a glass of whiskey he had intended to gulp down in a single go but, for some reason, hadn't yet. He couldn't even take a sip. Because even that had been his father's thing — Mon-El didn't drink whiskey. Actually, Mon-El didn't drink anything, not any more.

There was some kind of tasteless music playing in the background, probably something classic and fancy that nobody paid attention to. The atmosphere had already gotten dull, even though it wasn't even ten yet. Which not only meant it was too early to try and get out, he would be stuck in that stool for at least two more hours.

"Mon-El, dear," his mother suddenly spoke from behind him in that familiar tight tone she always used when she wanted to introduce him to someone. It was a warning, one he'd known since he'd been child; it meant he was to be his best self and not even think about embarrassing her.

"Yes, mother," he said, a questioning tilt in his voice. He put his still-full glass down and stood, turning around slowly.

"This is William Dey, he's a reporter at CatCo Worldwide Media, he will be covering our company's Charity Galla next month."

"Mon-El Gand, pleasure to meet you," he offered his hand for a handshake, plastering a well-practiced smile onto his face, one that didn't showcase his complete disinterest in whoever that dude was.

"Likewise," the reporter said, "I was just talking to Mrs Gand about doing an interview before the Galla. Would you be interested?"

Before Mon-El had time to answer, his mother did it for him. "Of course he is. It's about time we introduced the company's new vice president to the world. Isn't that right, son?" She raised a brow at him.

"Oh, definitely," he replied right away, holding back the urge to roll his eyes at her. "I have to warn you, though, I'm not used to this kind of thing," a playful grimace flashed across his features.

William Dey chuckled politely. "Don't worry, it's just a casual chat. You'll only have to answer a few questions. Leave the rest to me."

"Good, good, I look forward to that interview then."

"I will contact your secretary soon. Now if you'll excuse me," Dey's gaze fleeted away for a second, his face brightening up at whatever it was he was looking at. "My date has arrived," he said and walked away.

"What are you doing?" Mon-El threw his mother a piercing look once the reporter had been out of earshot. "New vice president? Since when? Need I remind you I haven't agreed to this yet?"

Rhea smirked in response, an antagonizing sparkle in her eyes. "Now, don't make a scene, dear, you and I both know it's the right decision. It's what your father would've wanted."

Mon-El's face hardened even more at his mother's choice of words. "No. This is what you want. Don't bring my father into it," he spat out.

"We talked about this. You will be the vice president for a few years, and then, when you're ready and I feel it's the right time to step down, you will take over the company."

"If you think I'm going to come work for you and obey your every word, you're wrong," he said, his jaw clenching. "You can have everything. I don't give a fuck." He turned to leave. "I'll have my resignation letter ready to be signed first thing in the morning."

In response, Rhea gripped his arm, stopping him before he could slip away. "What's gotten into you, tonight? Who the hell do you think you are to speak to me like that? I am your mother and you will listen to me."

Mon-El was ready to open his mouth, to spit some more colorful words out, definitely going for that scene his mother hadn't wanted. But then, as he moved his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek in a feeble attempt to control his growing frustration, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar face and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes focused on her, traveling from her blond hair to her wide smile to her soft hands to her long dress to her hidden feet. In that moment, his world froze. His heart stopped. He couldn't breathe. He knew her; he knew her too well, in fact. But he didn't know why she was hanging onto William Dey's arm, and more importantly, why she was there in the first place.

"Mon-El, look at me, I'm talking to you," Rhea snapped him out of his momentary trance.

"I gotta go," he told her without taking his eyes off the blond woman. "I have to go. I need to go." And with that, he took off, too fast to be stopped again.

In his rush to get away, Mon-El didn't notice the woman's gaze falling on him. He didn't see the way she followed his every step, as if she was ready to run to him. But she stood there, her date completely forgotten, the small talk she'd been in the middle of totally abandoned, and watched him. At that moment, he was all that she saw.

* * *

As cliche as it may sound, Mon-El needed some air. Thus, he headed for the balcony.

He didn't turn to look back, didn't attempt to get another glimpse of her face. He was too desperate to get out, needing to put his thoughts back in order before he could do anything stupid like go talk to her.

He hadn't seen her in almost two years; since she'd left him without as much as a goodbye. So to see her now, on an already rough night, out of the blue, was starting to mess with him. His argument with his mother was forgotten, any thoughts about his dead father sidelined, the company issues pushed to some corner in the very back of his mind. He couldn't think of anything but her — she was overwhelming him.

With shaky fingers, he pulled at his tie, leaving it to hang loosely around his neck. The cold breeze blew by his unsteady figure, chilling him, but he didn't unfold his sleeves. Instead, he welcomed the shivers, for they served as a distraction, however brief.

Maybe he should've drunk that whiskey, after all, he thought.

Silence hang above him, but it was tense. He was all alone outside, and still, the atmosphere felt heavy and charged, as if she was right there with him. Mon-El breathed in and out, resting his elbows on the balcony rail and looking out at the city. And with every second that passed, his heart beat faster. Only he wasn't sure if that was because he wanted to see her again or because he'd rather he hadn't seen her at all.

"I knew I'd find you here," she spoke from behind him, not giving him enough time to make his mind up. Her voice was quiet and sweet, luring him into a daze, urging him to turn and look at her.

And so, Mon-El did. "Kara," he said, trying to appear surprised. His brows raised, a fake smile struggling its way across his lips.

"Hey," she smiled back, "what are you doing out here? It's cold."

"Yeah, I know," he shrugged a shoulder. "I'm gonna go back inside, I just needed a moment."

"Are you okay?" She took a step closer.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

She threw him a look, studying him. It was clear that she wanted to say something, but she held it back. A chuckle slipped out of her mouth instead. "I met your mother inside," she pointed a thumb behind her back, a grimace accompanying her words. "She still doesn't like me, does she?"

"Nah, not really," Mon-El shook his head, "but then again, she still doesn't really like me either, so..." he trailed off and the two shared a laugh. "What are you doing here?" he couldn't help but ask.

Kara stalled for a moment to fix the glasses atop her nose. "I, uh," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, "I'm here with someone."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He was invited and he invited me to come with and... you know..."

Mon-El nodded in response. "So, how long are you back in town for?" he continued the small talk, the uneasiness growing within him as his thoughts were swarmed by past memories.

"I actually live here now. I moved back a few months ago."

Kara didn't move closer, didn't invade his space physically, but somehow she made him feel cornered. "Right. You said you're here with someone. It makes sense," he said, the original surprise turning into jealousy, despite the fact he didn't have a right to feel that anymore.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the blonde raised a brow at him.

"Nothing. Sorry," he apologized, although he didn't know what for.

"No, tell me. What was that supposed to mean? What makes sense?"

Mon-El noticed her getting frustrated, which would normally be a telltale to back off and walk away. During their last months together, Kara would get angry often, and they'd fight a lot, thus he'd learned to keep his distance. But now, even though his instincts told him it wasn't the time nor the place to antagonize her, her piercing gaze stirred the same frustration in him.

In reality, he wasn't frustrated. And he wasn't even jealous anymore. Different feelings had flooded him, one by one, as memories filled his head the longer Kara stood in front of him. Now he was angry and betrayed and sad, feeling the cracks of his broken heart grow wider and wider, each of her words and each of her looks undoing all the work he'd spent two years on. In just a few minutes and an unexpected appearance, she was undoing him as a whole and Mon-El didn't know how to keep himself together.

"What makes sense is that you moved back to be with your new someone. After all, I know better than anyone that you don't do long distance. Wasn't that why you left me? Or did you think that I would ever hold you back from going after your dream job just because it was on the other side of the country?" he told her and regretted every word before it had even left his mouth, but he couldn't stop.

"Oh my God," Kara took half a step back. "After all this time and you still have no idea," she threw her own words at him like an accusation and shook her head when he eyed her questioningly.

"Now, what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Mon-El crossed his arms in front of his chest.

The blonde shook her head again. "I'm not doing this with you," she said and turned to leave.

"Yeah, okay, you're gonna leave again, aren't you? Go ahead, it's what you do, after all."

At that, she froze on the spot. Her hands were starting to shake due to her overwhelming emotions –not necessarily anger– and she took a deep breath in to calm herself down. "I didn't come here to fight with you," she said in an even tone.

"Then why the hell did you follow me out here? What did you think would happen? You and I, we've got history, the kind you can't just erase with a 'hi, how are you' and then go on your merry way. It doesn't work like that."

His stormy eyes had started to well with tears and she noticed. Why could she not notice? But the truth was that Kara was holding her own tears back too, because she was just as hurt as he was, even if he couldn't see it.

"I didn't think of anything. I just saw you and I couldn't not talk to you," she admitted. "It was clearly a mistake."

"No, it wasn't," Mon-El sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His demeanor changed completely. "I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean to. You just caught me off guard and I'm not having the best of days."

"I can see that." Kara's shoulders relaxed, her eyes filling with concern she didn't dare voice. "Can we start over? I haven't seen you in so long, the last thing I want is to fight with you."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he agreed and offered her a genuine smile this time. "May I?" he reached an arm out, going for a hug.

"Of course," Kara let a brief laugh out and walked into his embrace, which immediately enveloped her. It was definitely awkward but it was also gentle. It reminded her of old times, the good ones, though.

"How are you?" Mon-El asked her once they'd pulled apart.

"I'm good, really good, actually," she replied. "I got a job back at CatCo, Mrs Grant liked the articles I wrote for the 'DC News' and offered me a reporter's position in her team. That's why I moved back here."

"Wow, that's amazing. I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you," she said. "What about you? I've heard some rumors. You're stepping up as the vice president?"

"I'm considering it."

"That's good," Kara nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Mon-El said.

"Is this what you want?"

He went still at the question, his eyes narrowing. Until that point, there had been an invisible line they'd both been dancing along. They'd crossed it earlier, when things had gotten too serious and heated, but now, with that question, Kara hadn't simply crossed it — she'd jumped over it.

But instead of Mon-El allowing her to get too close, to play a part in his life she had no business playing anymore, he decided to do what he'd used to when they would have a fight. He decided it was better to back off and walk away. Because their history didn't matter anymore. The fact that Kara had once known him better than he'd known himself didn't apply anymore. And he couldn't let her do that to him; act like nothing had changed and she was still the one who could read him like an open book, asking things he hadn't even dared ask his own self.

"It is what I want," he told her with a nod. "We should go back inside," he prompted then, hinting at the fact he was done talking.

If she was being honest, Kara was done talking too, and not because she couldn't engage in further small talk or face the past. It was quite obvious that the two couldn't keep a normal conversation; they didn't know how to act like strangers who barely knew each other. And the more time passed, the longer they talked, the harder it became to ignore the tension between them.

The hug they'd shared earlier hadn't been a good idea. Touching, in general, should've been avoided. Because now Kara couldn't help craving another one. She wanted to get closer to him, erase the distance inch by inch until they breathed the same air. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her again, to feel his warmth and gentleness she'd been deprived of for too long.

"Hold on a second," she said, grinning, and used a finger to beckon him closer. "You can't go in like this. Your mother will freak out if she sees your tie."

"You think?" Mon-El chuckled, looking down.

"Let me fix it for you," Kara said and didn't wait for an answer. She reached out, pulling at Mon-El's tie and proceeded to finish the task. She could feel his eyes on her, though she didn't know if he was staring at her hands or her face. What she knew, however, was that being close and breathing the same air hadn't satisfied her at all. If anything, she craved even more now. So, when the tie was fixed and she looked up, their eyes meeting, she didn't hold back. She grabbed his collar with one hand, preventing him from pulling away and whispered: "Kiss me."

Mon-El hesitated. "You said you're here with someone," he spoke against her lips.

"But I didn't say we were together," she replied, "now will you kiss me or not?" a huff almost escaped her mouth but Mon-El muffled it with his own.

Right from the start, that wasn't a tame kiss. It was as desperate as it ought to be, as reckless as it ought to be, as hungry and instinctive and catastrophic. It sucked the air from their lungs and buried any inhibitions they might have had until that moment. And instead of calming them down and easing their yearning, it fueled their desire until that was all they knew. But what else had they expected? Two years was a long time to cover up for...

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say a big thank you to everyone who left a comment on the previous chapter, your kind words really mean a lot to me, especially now that I'm not writing as much as I used to and I seem to doubt myself more.  
> All of you guys liking my stories are half the reason I'm still writing for this ship (the other half is melwood keeping the sparkle alive.) I stopped watching the show back when season 3 ended and, if it weren't for your encouragement and support, I honestly wouldn't bother writing for karamel anymore. So thanks for that too.  
> I hope you like this chapter as well.

He'd kissed her.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

_**Fuck.** _

Why the hell had he kissed her?

That hadn't been supposed to happen. He hadn't intended to let it happen. And yet, without a second thought, he'd thrown himself into the trap that she was. Two words; that'd been all she'd said and he was done for.

_Damn it._

Mon-El still stood at the balcony, once again alone. His lips were tingling at the memory of Kara's, dissatisfied and desperate for more, but the blonde had just left. She'd slipped back inside, leaving him there to deal with the aftermath of his own downfall. Because that was how he called it: his downfall. It felt appropriate, considering the fact he'd been so adamant to keep his distance and not let her affect him in any way, but, in a split second, he'd turned it all around.

She was that powerful — or, rather, he was that weak. Because he'd known he hadn't moved on, he'd known his heart still longed for her, but he'd chosen to believe in a lie he'd created of his own accord. And then, as if she'd known the kind of power she still held over him, she'd ripped that lie of his apart without even trying at all.

The wind howled but it was no match for the cacophony coming from inside. Mon-El glanced behind his back, observing the crowd. He didn't want to return to the party, he'd called it a night before Kara had even showed up, and although he'd decided to stay earlier, all he could currently think of was getting the hell out of there.

And that was what he did. With a quick stride, he left the balcony and slipped through the crowd until he'd found his mother. "I'm leaving," he whispered to her ear, caring little about the fact an old –most likely filthy rich– bald dude had been talking to her.

Rhea took a good look at him, as if she'd been expecting him. With a swift motion of her hand, she dismissed the other man and focused on her son. "You saw her, didn't you?" she asked and one of her hands rested on his shoulder — the closest she would get to a comforting gesture.

Mon-El nodded, his gaze low.

"It's early."

He didn't respond to that, only raised his head and stared at her, his eyes communicating without words. "Mom," he said. The name was foreign on his tongue; he hadn't used it in years. "Please."

"Okay, go," she told him and Mon-El could've sworn he caught a glimpse of concern passing across her face. Before he could dwell on it, however, he walked away, heading for the exit.

He didn't stop to search for Kara, fighting against his own urge to see her one more time. He simply left, practically running to his car after he'd stepped out the entrance door. And then he drove away, even though he didn't have a particular destination in mind. He couldn't go home yet, couldn't go back to the same walls they had once lived in together. He was trying to escape her, that was what he told himself, because the smell of her perfume still chased him and her voice still echoed in his ears.

* * *

It was already one in the morning when Mon-El stepped into his apartment building, hands in his pockets and face sullen. Driving hadn't eased his mind much, he still felt like a whirlwind, going around in circles. He revisited past memories and went through the same old emotions again and again, as if the last two years had been mere minutes and his brain was stuck in a loop.

He walked into the elevator and stood there for a minute, before he remembered to press the button up to his floor. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and waited, impatient and weary and wanting nothing more than to fall into bed and forget that night had even happened.

He shouldn't have expressed such wishes, though. Because life was a bitch, and when you wanted one thing, it took it as a challenge to give you the exact opposite. And in Mon-El's case, apparently, the exact opposite was Kara sitting with her back pressed against his door, waiting for him to finally come home.

He saw her before she did. Her head was bowed and resting atop her bent knees. At first glance, he wasn't sure if she was even awake, but after he'd taken a couple of steps closer, her eyes snapped high to meet his own.

"Kara? What are you doing here?" he asked.

She took a moment to respond, looking as surprised as he was. "I was waiting for you," she said and accepted the hand he'd offered to help her up.

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just–" she faltered and a blush tinged her cheeks. "We kissed."

"I know." 

"No, I mean– I'm here because we kissed."

Mon-El's brows furrowed. "I don't understand," he said and studied her gaze, as if he'd find an answer in there.

"I feel like I should apologize for what happened. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have forced you into kissing me, I'm sorry." The blush on her cheeks turned a shade darker and she bit her bottom lip.

"You didn't force me into anything," he replied, "I wanted to kiss you too."

"Really?"

"Come on, Kara," he rolled his eyes and pulled his keys out of his pocket. Seeing the motion, the blonde took a step aside to let him unlock the door. "Like I said earlier, you and I got history, the kind we can't easily ignore." He didn't look at her as he spoke, only pushed the door open and walked into the apartment. "I get it," he turned to face her again, "we got caught in the moment, it doesn't matter."

"What if I want it to matter?" Kara followed him inside.

"What?"

"You heard me." She came and stood right in front of him. "What if I want it to matter? What if I told you I came to your mother's thing tonight because I was hoping to bump into you? I wanted to see you. And I wanted to talk to you. And I may not have planned to kiss you, but I'm not regretting it either, if I'm being honest."

Mon-El blinked. He was speechless. His heart started pounding inside his chest, his skin was getting all hot and sweaty and his nostrils flared, as if he needed more air all of a sudden. "Don't do this to me," he said and lowered his face. "You can't do this to me. It's been two years. You left me."

Kara lifted both hands and cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. "I didn't leave you, I simply left." A thumb caressed his skin. "I couldn't stay," she admitted, "things weren't good, Mon-El, we were falling apart and you know that."

"You gave up on us," he spoke with a hint of accusation, but it was mostly a whine that echoed through his words.

"Maybe, but I'm here now."

"What are you saying exactly?"

"I'm saying that I wanna kiss you again, if you let me," she smirked.

"I'll definitely let you."

"Yeah?" she inched closer.

Mon-El hummed positively and his eyelids fluttered shut right after Kara's. He stayed still and waited for her, not knowing whether she'd actually lean in and claim his lips, but that only lasted for about two seconds. She'd been as impatient as he'd been, it seemed, and didn't stall further before diving right into their second kiss of that night.

Things escalated quickly after that, as the pair fumbled with clothes and grabbed onto each other with no intention of letting go. Neither of the two had had anything to drink, but they surely looked drunk, stumbling and laughing between moans and pleads, already existing in a world of their own. They weren't the same as they once used to be, that much was clear, but memory was a powerful thing. Thus their bodies weren't restrained by the same inhibitions their minds were. Their hands knew exactly what to touch, their lips knew exactly where to press, their ears knew exactly what sounds to listen and aim for.

Kara's jacket was thrown somewhere on the living room floor, Mon-El's shirt must've fallen on the couch, his pants were shed in the hall and her dress barely made it past the bedroom door. By the time they'd fallen into his bed, only underwear remained, which they were eager to remove too.

"I missed you," Mon-El mumbled, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses from Kara's stomach up to her jaw.

"Me too," she breathed out, fingers pulling at his hair and head thrown back.

Suddenly, he paused for a moment, putting a stop to all the fervor and lust in favor of asking a very important question. "Are you sure about this?" He pulled back, hands withdrawing and knees helping him stand a safe distance away, so his touch wouldn't distract her and draw an instinctive response from her that she'd regret later.

The blonde looked at him surprised. She scooted backwards too, only enough to rest on his pillows and prop herself up a few inches. "I'm sure," she nodded, "are you?"

"I want you," Mon-El said simply.

Kara smiled at that. "Then show me," she dared, reaching out for him again. And that was all the confirmation he'd needed, before returning to his previous position and proceeding to do just what she'd asked him to.

There was no going back after that. No doubts, no second thoughts, no pauses and uncertainty. They simply got lost in each other, sinking into needs and wants and two years' worth of unfulfilled yearning. At the moment, there was no way to stop what they'd started, all they could do was give into it and hope they wouldn't drown.

* * *

Morning came with tangled limps and wrinkled sheets and kisses that tasted like strawberry jam. It wasn't too early when the pair woke up, but they'd had a long night, so their eyelids were heavy and sleep mellowed their senses.

They ate breakfast in bed, stealing bites from each other's plate, and gazed at the city from the big window that covered most of the wall they were facing. But as the time passed and the world came back into focus, a certain tension settled in the atmosphere and threatened to burst the bubble they had been hiding in. 

They tried to ignore it at first by speaking less and touching more. And it worked for a while. However, there came a point when they were both itching to say something, despite the fact neither dared to open their mouth.

Kara grasped Mon-El's hand, slipping her fingers in the gaps between his own. In response, he squeezed and turned to press his lips on her shoulder. The silence was becoming taut, the short-lived serenity cracking at the edges. But they held on for a little longer, both lost in their wild thoughts.

"What are we doing?" Mon-El asked softly after some time, being the first who'd gathered enough courage to speak. Perhaps he was the only one to have needed it in the first place, though — Kara seemed calmer and more certain.

"Are you having second thoughts?" the blonde stared at him.

"Kind of," he stared back, unwilling to miss the hidden secrets she might blink away. "We spent the night together, now what?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought that far." A small smile graced her face, contradicting the storm that was raging within him.

"You left for a reason," he said, "what are we doing messing around with the past? We're supposed to be done and over with."

Kara sighed, maneuvering her body to face him properly atop the bed. "I didn't leave because I didn't love you anymore," she said, "in fact, I left because I loved you too much and I couldn't stand what we had become."

"That's bullshit," Mon-El's face hardened and he withdrew, pulling his hands and legs back, just enough to avoid contact.

"It's not bullshit, it's the truth."

"If you loved me, you wouldn't have left. Not with a goddamned letter on the kitchen table and a half-assed apology. Not when I needed you the most."

"I tried, Mon-El. You know that I tried."

"Oh, did you, now?" His words dripped with sarcasm and disbelief. 

"Stop doing this!" Kara exclaimed, furious and loud all of a sudden. "Stop acting like you're the only one whose heart broke. It's not fair!"

He watched her slip off the bed and walk to the window, her breaths heavy and long. The shirt she'd borrowed from him barely reached her thighs, underwear and legs still visible, and normally, a sight like that would have him paralyzed and owning all of his attention. Nonetheless, this time he didn't even glance away from her face. "You left me, Kara," he said instead, holding onto his own anger as if it was the only thing keeping him together. "My father was dying, I was a mess and you got up and left!"

"What was I supposed to do?" she yelled, her hands curling into fists. "What could I do? You didn't want me, you didn't want my help, you wanted nothing to do with me!"

"What are you even talking about?" Mon-El stood too. He was too worked up to be sitting down. "You were the only one I wanted."

"Oh, did you, now?" Kara took her turn on the offensive side, mimicking his previous tone, "'Cause that's not what I remember. What I remember is you not coming home for days, not talking to me, not even bothering to answer my calls, and if you did come, you were so drunk you couldn't even walk to our bed." 

"I did come home!" he retaliated. "I did talk to you and answered your calls and tried to stay sober. But you were so mad at me. Constantly. You were so damn mad, always picking fights, always asking for more than I could give."

"I wasn't mad at you, you idiot!"

"What?" 

"I wasn't mad at you," she repeated. "I was mad at the world and the way it was breaking you. I was mad at myself because I couldn't help you. I was mad at everything and everyone but not at you, never at you."

"That's– that's not what I was seeing." His shoulders slumped, confusion flashing across his features.

"Yeah, because I didn't let you. I was so focused on your feelings that I forgot to pay attention to mine."

"Kara," he started.

"No, let me say this," she cut him off. She still stood in front of the window, the sun shining behind her and making her hair glow. But her figure was shadowed, both literally and metaphorically. "I know I'm to blame for many things. I know you're angry and you have every right to be. I shouldn't have left like that. But you need to understand that I couldn't stay either. In just one day, when you found out about your father's condition, you changed your whole life and you never stopped to think about me, you acted like I didn't even exist. For a whole year, you spent your days either in your father's office, running his company for him, or in his hospital room, trying to make up for all the years you'd been estranged. And when you were all burnt out or too riled up –only then– you came to me. Only when you were falling apart, you remembered to come home." Her eyes glossed over and her mouth pursed, the dimple below her bottom lip showing, but she took a deep breath and continued: "But you know what? I didn't have a problem with that, not in the selfish way. I only had a problem with what you were doing to yourself. I didn't care that I slept alone, as long as I could hear you snoring from the living room couch. I didn't care that I only saw you for a few minutes at night, as long as you were safe and sober and knew that I was right here waiting for you."

"Kara."

He got cut off again, only this time it was with a shake of her head. The words were choking her, the memories weakening her, the emotions twisting her heart and draining her lungs of oxygen. "I was right here," she said, pointing a finger to what used to be her side of the bed, "I was right here, every day and every night. You weren't."

"You couldn't help me, you couldn't fix it all for me," Mon-El approached with slow steps. She was falling apart right in front of him and he couldn't hold onto his anger anymore.

What good was that anger, anyway? It'd been the reason he'd let it all go to hell; the reason he'd slipped back into his parents' life and tried to keep everything running in a delusional notion that his father would stay alive longer, because he'd still been so angry with the old man and couldn't find it in himself to forgive him before he died. And it was the reason he couldn't look Kara in the eye and had turned to liquor bottles instead, because he was too mad at himself for not being better, not being stronger and dragging her into his mess. And it was why he'd let her go; why after he'd read that goddamned letter left on the kitchen table with the half-assed apology, he hadn't tried to bring her back. He was too angry to mourn, too angry to ask for help, too angry to love and accept love. And he had paid for it. 

A sigh escaped him just as a sob escaped her. He didn't wait further after that. His arms reached out and gently pulled her close until she was cradled in his embrace. Her body shook and shivered and Mon-El lowered his face to hide in the crook of her neck. He shushed and hummed and pressed kisses to her soft skin, the weight of their past having settled upon them both. But if they were going to go down, they'd do it together — at least this time, they were sensible enough to know that much.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was a mess. It wasn't your fault," he whispered, not sure if she could hear him.

The blonde lifted her head. Their eyes met. "I should've tried harder, I should've loved you better. You were a mess and I left."

"I'm not blaming you anymore," he said and touched his forehead to her own.

"I'm not leaving again," Kara lifted a hand to stroke his stubbled cheek.

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

"Then I might hold you to it."

They smiled with newfound relief and didn't speak again. Everything that needed to be said had been, the rest could wait. Now it was time for a different kind of communication, a different kind of connection. And, naturally, their bodies knew the way.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I'm thinking of adding another chapter in the next few days, but I know better than to promise such things when I don't have anything written down yet, so I'm gonna leave the chapter status as it is for now.  
> Leave a kudos, write a comment, let me know what you thought of the story, I'd be delighted to hear back from you! ♥️

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked what you read, let me know with a kudos and comment ;)


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